"Hey, are you Big D? We know Stephanie.."

Well, somehow, I convinced people to go out with me for Leonardo DiCaprio's birthday. It was hard, and I had to do some bargaining, but ultimately, what's the point of living in Hollywood if you're not going to pretend to celebrate a HUGE celebrity's birthday? Oh that's right...we obviously had no real connection to any kind of birthday party for him, but we figured if we hit enough clubs, we were bound to see some action. And so, my friends Jesse and August (two of the most fun men in Hollywood) agreed to drink with me like we were back in the midwest again, and attempt to find Leo.

As August stood pouring me a drink in his and Jesse's apartment, he turned to ask me how much vodka I wanted to swallow with my diet pop. I told him, "Just let it flow," and he looked at me dubiously. Jesse then turned him and explained, "August, she's from the midwest. She's not one of these crazy LA chicks who doesn't drink." Immediately, I knew I had picked the right kind of party goers. And so, 5 shots and one cab ride later, we arrived at a club called Villa, not really knowing if it was possible to get inside. How does this work? How does one bypass a door man who's looking for names on a list and familiar faces? I have no idea. When I went to school in Ann Arbor, the bars were easy. Flirt with an oversized bouncer, flash your ID and even if there was a huge line, you were more then welcomed past the front door. The thing is... things in LA just don't work that way. And although I'm not sure how exactly they DO work, I'm positive it's not as easy and simple as a smile and a flirtation. Somehow though, we managed to milk the only connection we were aware of (get ready: we knew a girl at work who knew a guy who was promoting for the night who knew the bouncer, who, if we dropped the right name, would let us in) but sadly, all of this nonsense about knowing the right people kind of killed our respective buzzes. And all of this just to find Leo.

Once we were in, we took in Villa for all it was worth--all 20 square feet of it. For a club that generates such buzz around town, it sure was small. This is just proof that size doesn't really matter as much as they say it does in Hollywood ;) But we walked around, studied the unfamous faces insides, bought $12 beers for our buzzes, and parked it on a couch. We took some pictures of ourselves in order to commemorate the fact that we were all finally out in Hollywood, soaking up the sights that we would never have seen if we had stayed in Michigan (or Wisconsin as it is in Jesse and August's cases). But once midnight approached, and Leo was still MIA, we decided to pack it in and head to another oddly named club none of us had ever heard of. 

Continuing the search for the famous, we walked what seemed like 800 blocks (really about 3) to Apple, a club that boasted yet another VIP-style "You Have To Be On The List" situation. Well guess what, we weren't on the list and this is how we ended up using that glamorous line, "Hey are you Big D? We know Stephanie..." to which the burly bouncer Big D replied, "Stephanie who?" and then turned away thus ending our entrance options. But Jesse, being the sleuth that he is, somehow snuck into a random line and magically, 5 minutes later, our drunk asses stumbled into Apple, past the list. How can this really be? All this hype about tough doormen, yet we're slipping in and out of entrances like Lindsay Lohan slips in and out of her sexuality.

But to be perfectly honest, this is where the story gets interesting... 

Hanging out at Apple was fun, but it really wasn't all I had thought it would be. I was drunk, that was nice, but I had a specific purpose to the evening. I set out to have an adventure--a HOLLYWOOD adventure. Something carved out of my wildest dreams. It was a fat chance, I accepted that, but hey, a kid can dream. That's what H-Wood's all about, right? Admitting the defeat of the evening, I turned to August, who was sitting on a lounge couch in between Jesse and me and said, "You know, I'm over the quest of Leo for the evening. It's never going to happen. But I would totally settle for seeing Emile Hirsch**." He responds, "Oh yeah, Emile is awesome. I'd fucking love to see him."

Right as we're speaking the words, a bouncer comes over to the three of us and asks us to move out of the VIP lounge couches. We stand up like disciplined children and as I'm moving to the side, I turn around and sitting on the other end of the couches is...EMILE HIRSCH!!! 

"Umm...August, that's Emile right there."

"No it's not. It just looks like him."

"Emile! Emile!" I shout out over the music and the table that has bottle service and Red Bulls.  He looks at me. I yell, "Can I meet you?!?!" And to my utter shock and surprise, this little gift from god walks over to me, offers me his hand and introduces himself. I tell him the thing I've been wanting to tell him for the last 2 years: "I. Love. You." And yet still shocking, he stands there and accepts my praise, smiling and being kind the whole time as I pour out the inter-workings of my heart: "I love you in Into the Wild, I love you in MILK, you're amazing, let's get married." Just kidding, I didn't propose. 

We conclude our meeting with a "Nice to meet you" exchange, and then I walk away, looking back a few time to double check and make sure that the vodka I drank earlier didn't just created this scenario out of thin air. But it was verified. It was legit. It was the COOLEST thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. Here's this super hot guy who I watched on T.V. 2 years ago, oogling and drooling over the whole time, and then BOOM, I met him out of the clear blue sky. I can't help thinking of the guy in the movie Pretty Woman who walks across the screen at the end and yells, "Welcome to Hollywood! What's your dream?!"

Adventure accomplished. Tomorrow--I'm aiming high again. We're going out to the swanky clubs, and this time, I want to meet Robert Pattinson. I have an idea of where he might be, but I haven't a clue of how to get into this club. It's a crap shoot, a thread to hang on to, a total and complete hit-or-miss situation... but fuck, it's fun.

**Obviously, seeing Emile is not considered a settle by ANY means, but I was being dramatic. Everyone who knows me knows that Emile Hirsch ranks almost above my parents in my echelon  of life loves. 

The Poopy Thong

"Just whatever you do, don't let him do you in the butt."

-"Umm... WHAT??"

Has it really come to that? I tell my best friend that I'm in love and she tells me to just watch out for a little slip of the bum? I'm put off by her reaction. This cannot be how we're defining love now. 

Suddenly it all flashes back to me... she's a little sensitive about this. The last time she was in love, this is exactly how some boy tricked her. She wanted to have regular sex with him, the usual-hole kind, but he was a "virgin" and suggested the other hole as a means of pleasing God. She agreed, with her "try anything once" attitude, but the experience was unpleasantly indelible, and now the association between love and anal is strong. 

But, she's long since moved on. Far and away totally in love with someone else. Someone who thinks that God can take a back seat to good ol' fashioned sex. Yet, she is still putting the warning out there: dissuading other individuals claiming to be in love, to just love without their asses. 

It makes sense to me, but then again, I never considered the alternative. Although, that's just a personal preference and clearly, when it comes to love, all bets are off. 

And then I am reminded of a conversation I had about a year ago with my friend Alex. I remember sitting in the kitchen of my old college house with him, drunk and drinking water, laughing while discussing the pros and cons of anal insertion (between a guy and girl, anyway). What I'll never remember is how we stumbled upon that particular topic, but needless to say, it was the subject on the table. It quickly escalated into a heated battle--me on the "anti" side, him on the "devil's advocate" side--and it woke up one of my roommates, who, before telling Alex and I to be quiet, was quickly sucked into the conversation by the sheer fact that we needed an objective third party to rule on the question at hand...

What if it came down to it? What if, at the end of the day, the person you loved wholeheartedly, the person who dominated your affections in and out of the bedroom, the person you envisioned a wedding with and who had helped you decorate your last Christmas tree, just wanted to stick his toe in your butt? You might be alarmed at first, but what if he told you it was the absolute, honest-to-goodness only way he could possibly get off? What if you had tried everything else suggested in the Kama Sutra pamphlet but it all failed, leaving you with only this last little experiment to hinge together your entire sex life? Would you do it? Would you step over all perviously-determined boundaries for the sake of satisfying someone you loved?

It's a tough one. I know that when the hypothetical question was raised, my disgruntled roommate, whose original intention was to silence us, left the kitchen slightly convinced: "Yeah, what the hell? I'd let him do it... if I really loved him. Now please shut the fuck up and go to bed."

But I'm not won over all that easily. I have to say, I'm the number one champion of love, but if love means that you have to silence the voice in your head that says, "Think twice about this one, it could get messy..." then maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe I've been telling people that I'm currently dealing with an emotion that really, I have no clue about. These folks, these "love" folks, seem to be willing to bend over backwards for their mates--pun INTENDED--and that seems a little extreme to me. Here I was thinking that the actual act of "being in love" was as extreme as you could go, but apparently it is the acts you do while in love that are the extremities. 

When you start to analyze it, rip it apart to its verbal core, it starts to become a compelling argument. Since you love me, meet my family. Since you love me, babysit my aggressive doberman. Since you love me, empty the dishwasher. Since you love me, let's experiment...

And although I've never been confronted with this kind of dilemma before (thankfully) I would wager a ferret that more than a few girls would admit to having heard this kind of slippery slope love-rationale before. Yes, I have a feeling that this is exactly the kind of logic and reasoning that landed my exhibitionist best friend with a broken heart, a permanent love-disclaimer, and a pile of dirty laundry that contained one, sadly poopy thong. 

Top 10 Reasons to Shave My Head

10) Yesterday, I hit my head with a clothing rack and I could have sworn that I was dripping blood, but it took me 10 minutes of hair-disheveling to realize that no, I wasn't dripping blood, I was just being dramatic. No hair means no guessing. I could more easily tell if I was gushing from an open wound.

9) I would no longer feel compelled to swing my head around like a fucking freak when I'm drunk and listening to a song I want to sing and dance to. The sheer reason that I dance like a cat on fire is because I enjoy the sensation of my hair falling on my face. But I could save a lot of embarrassment if I didn't do this anymore, so OFF IT GOES!

8) If I had a bald head, I would no longer debate the issues of dyeing my hair blonde. Oh yes, I did try this once--some might argue twice, but the second time was unintentional--and it's not a good look. Needless to say, I contemplate it more often than I should.

7) I could finally wear a hat. I would probably be more sensitive to the cold without my hair, so I could wear a hat and not worry anymore about hat hair.

6) Less time spent in the shower.

5) Less money spent on good smelling shampoos and conditioners. My former bathroom mate, Laura Drouillard, can sympathize with this one. At one point, in our tiny shower, so tiny that you for sure couldn't put more than 1 person in it (believe me, I tried), I had 5 different sets of shampoo and conditioner. Excessive and easily eliminated along with my hair.

4) I'd get better lap times in the pool. Oh yeah, I'd probably be able to beat M.Phelps. Here's to hoping!

3) Hair basically leaps off of my head as it is. It's on the ground, on my shirts, stuck to my socks and sometimes stuck in the drain. It's a damaged lot. It's excessively heated and mangled into being a straight follicle when really, all it wants to do in life is be curly. Even now, feeling at the back of head, towards the base of the root, there are some of the tightest curled locks of hair that have resisted pressure from the heating tools. I hate them, they hate me, lets cut our losses (get the pun?)

2) I'd probably be able to knock 1 or 2 pounds off of the scale if I were bald.

1) THE NUMBER ONE REASON!!! When it grows back, it will be a fierce fro. Oh that's right, I did a slightly less extreme version of baldness once before and no one could have predicted the results, but sure enough, a fro sat on top of my scalp for the duration of my hair's "growing back" period. Thank you 7th grade for all of the horrible memories I have since blocked out. Thank you 8th grade boys for calling me "fro" in the hallway. Thank you Chi for inventing the most amazing flat iron. Thank you hair for reaching my shoulders once again. Now please, if you don't mind, I'll have to ask you to leave. 

Drinking the Blood of Hollywood

I love this, because it could only happen here. Oh, and maybe in New York too...

I was at work today, just hanging out with the other interns, maybe writing something up, when all of a sudden an unfamiliar MALE face appeared at the door of the office. We truly have no men at work, all women, so the sight was a little alarming. I looked at him and I noticed that his hat said "COEXIST" in the funny symbols that make it recognizable as a peace kind of message. I know what it is because I have it as a bumper sticker, which is what I told him when I complimented on his cool hat. He goes, "Oh you have the bumper sticker, you should get the hat." I replied, "Yeah, I probably should." Then he asked me if I voted and I assured him that my absentee ballot for Obama (who was pictured on my shirt) had be sent in weeks ago. It was a sweet banter, the kind of thing that is so casual, you don't really pay to much attention to it unless your conversation partner turns to leave and you realize that he played "Cheese" in "Gone Baby Gone"!!!!!!

He left and I said, "Wait a minute here. Did anyone else recognize him." Of course, no one did, but I'm not only avidly obsessed with movie people, but I have seen that movie only 100 times, mostly because it's good but also because it's on HBO all the time. I know Cheese. I could pick him out of a crowd anywhere. I was fucking thrilled. This was big time stuff. I mean, it was a bit part, and he's not very famous, but it was amazing and incredible anyway. I was kicking myself for not having the guts to be like "Hey, I know you from somewhere..." which is what I wanted to say all along, but what can you do? Moment passed.

Well to make matters worse, I further checked into his acting stats when I got home later this evening, and I saw that he's got yet another bit part in another HUGE FUCKING MOVIE. The following information has yet to be blogged about for a number of reasons, but, as it turns out, I'm an enormous "Twilight" fan. It's a book series about vampires, and it has become like crack in my life. I'm tearing through the books with passion, trying to finish them by the time the MOVIE comes out on the 21st of this month. Well guess the fuck what? This guy I met--Edi Gathegi--is in the fucking movie! So basically, I've been obsessing over this movie/this book/this cast for the last 2 weeks and I had my brush with it this afternoon and didn't even get to communicate the obsession. Now, everyone might say that this was for the best, and that I'll have another opportunity to convey obsession to an actor/actress in the future, but for now, this was a Big Fucking Deal and I feel like I barely capitalized on it.

Then again, I am forcing fellow workers to celebrate Leonardo DiCaprio's birthday with me next week... so I could be on the right track to reproducing such a fanfare moment.

Anyway, that's all that's been going on over here. Congratulations Barack Obama. We have hope. It's been a long time since that emotion has crept up.

Hallo-fuckin-ween

In grades 3 through 5, I was an Indian. I had a feather, I had a tomahawk, I had a brown dress with ornate silver piping that my grandma made, and I loved it. That's officially the last time I remember enjoying dressing up for Halloween. Strike that, I liked being Raggedy Anne one year too, but then I got to school and realized someone else was also that famous redhead, and I was instantly miserable.

So I make no secret of it, I hate Halloween. Why oh why do I have to dress up? My best friend reminded me this week that her favorite costume of mine was not the year I just wore mis-matched clothing, not the year I just put cat ears on my head, not the year I essentially wore my regular clothes, but the year I was a dead bride. Yes, in four years of college, I could only muster up the energy to buy ONE real costume and that's because it was on sale and included a blonde wig. I was toying with the idea of going blonde for my real life, so I thought I'd try it on for Halloween. Actually, I should give this stupid holiday some credit because it pretty much saved my life. I looked like a fool as a blonde.

Tonight, who knows. I snagged some free costume shit from my internship because one of the designers we work with came out with a costume line this season. These are the costumes I helped send as gifts to Leighton Meester, Britney Spears, Blake Lively and some other celebs. But the truth is, I'm not even sure they're going to wear them. And if they're not going to, why should I? WHY DO I HAVE TO DRESS UP??

Well, it's because I've been informed that Halloween in San Diego is a Big Fucking Deal. I sort of experienced that last night when I went to the bar and it was chalk full of naughty school girls, bananas and a girl in a tin foiled box who was a "robot" and cracked me the fuck up. I mean, I don't know if it was the booze talking, but I turned this little dial on the box, and she asked me to hold her drink as she moved her arms all around and twirled in the box and it was hilarious. But I'll never be that funny or that clever this "holiday" season, so why even try?

I drove from LA to San Diego last night seriously racking my brain over what to be. I thought: maybe I'll take the fireman/girl hat, make a pair of pants and wear some sort of... NO. Maybe I'll buy a white button-down shirt, get some dark sunglasses and hike up some socks to be Tom Cruise in Risky... NO. Maybe I'll wear the bee wings, put the antennas on my head and find some kind of yellow... NO!! I can't decide. I can't work it out. Maybe I'll just stay home, read my book and do some fucking laundry. 

The point, they say, is to dress like a slut. To me, that's just a regular night out. 

There's no longer any candy involved, I'm not aware of any drink specials, and furthermore, I don't think that I belong in a city that celebrates the Day of the Dead with more fervor than which they celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Now THAT'S a holiday I like to take a whole week off to embrace.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I'll be a leprechaun. It's over done, I don't have anything green, but perhaps it will be just the right note of defiance and compliance mixed together. 

Whatever I end up being, I'd kind of like to run into that french maid I saw last night, again tonight. His long blonde hair did make him look like a girl, but his low-cut apron revealed a whole mess of muscles that were begging to be touched--caressed even--by someone like me. Me, the bee/fireman/girl/Tom Cruise/leprechaun. 

"Do I Make You Horny?"

-NO, YOU DON'T.

It's a dislike I've garnered over time. You know, the first time I heard it, like a lot of other people, was in "Austin Powers" and it was funny then. But then as my teenage years melted away, I started to hear it more and more only it stopped being confined to just a movie quote. It was coming out of the mouths of guys who were, for all intents and purposes, trying to get a personal message across to me. "I'm horny." Really? Really you are? Geez, that's a news flash. I'm so glad you told me this flat out because I was almost confused about why you were laying on top of me and nibbling on my neck. I was baffled by our interactions until you dropped that bomb! This is information I could not have ascertained with my college degree. I really am just an idiot who needs that kind of oral dictation. The boner on my leg was not enough.

I beg the question: why does this need to be communicated? Why do they think we're really in the dark? I think--and this is just a guess really--that most men probably walk around for more than half of their lives with that pressing emotion. That horniness they're so eager to mention and talk about. I bet it plagues them like a baboon with fleas. What I don't understand is why they feel it's necessary to let that word drop out of their mouths. That has to be the number one reason I've left many, many situations unsatisfied. I don't want to hear that. That makes me think of Austin Powers. Bad teeth, aggressive sexual drive and the Swedish Penis Enlarger. Are those really associations you want me to be making? They're in the right general vicinity, but they're  definitely not on target.

I have to ask, gentleman, in the throws of physicality, what can verbalizing this emotion do that simple body language cannot? It's perplexing. In addition, it's something that a moist towel and 15 minutes of alone time can cure. I don't need to be around for that, so I might as well send you on your way. 

So, that essentially sums up my weekend. One single distaste for a word. Don't like to hear it, don't think it's sexy, don't think it does anything more than state the obvious... in a somewhat vulgar way. It's a word that can make find its final peace in the 60s.

On to more important details...

This Sunday, Tevo + Meg conquered the most random of acts. We began this morning hung over at a breakfast place in La Jolla with a middle eastern host who kept referring to Tony as "Baby." "Here you go, baby," he said, handing Tony his menu. He's a gregarious host. We've met him before at this restaurant, but I just had to pause and crack up as he casually called Devon and I each, "lady," and Tony just plain "baby".

Then, after some well spent couch time, we went to Costco. Yesterday, also at Costco, Tony purchased his first membership card. I had no idea what kind of event this was for him in life. Apparently, as I later observed, the addition of Costco into Tony's life is altering. We meandered the aisles, familiarizing ourselves with this particular Costco's layout, as Tony convinced himself he needed everything in the store. All of a sudden, he's flipping TVs around--45" flat screens--to see what kind of HD hook up they are capable of. I figure he's probably the only nerd who does this kind of thing in Costco. He wanted a paper shredder, and a huge bottle of body wash, something for dinner and maybe 35 rolls of toilet paper, too. It was insanity. He was collecting items--like two computer monitors--as if he were on a notice from heaven that he had only 12 hours left to live. Finally, like the good babysitter I am, I pulled him away from the video games so that we could make it home to watch the kick off of the Michigan game. As it turns out, I should have just let him spend those 4 football hours in Costco. Maybe then our days wouldn't have been ruined by tragedy and defeat.

I wasn't terribly surprised when he wanted to go back today. We had Devon with us today, and in true kid form, they both rode the shopping cart down a hill in the parking lot. It wasn't embarrassing though. The actual kids in the parking lot looked super jealous of the activity, which of course, made us feel like the cool kids on the playground. It's the kind of thing that I'm convinced, can only happen at Costco.

We finished the day watching "W." So here goes...

W. **/5

Josh Brolin is amazing. His transformation into the world's biggest political ape is absolutely uncanny. It's on par with Tina Fey as Sarah Palin. Basically, all of the actors portraying cabinet members were astounding in their roles. I have to say, it's got to be difficult to not only portray someone who is still alive and in the public eye, but someone who is still in office! I mean, Josh Brolin isn't just some half-assed President Bush. He takes on the role flawlessly and for that, I say nominate the hell out of him come this awards season.

The movie itself, however, is odd. As previously mentioned, I'm not into war/political/governmental movies. Why, then, do I keep watching them?? Well, because they happen to be the bulk of what's out right now and come on, I was desperately curious as to what was going transpire in this film. I found myself consistently checking the time, however. I wasn't too entertained. I went into it with the idea that it was going to be funny, and other than the occasional chuckle, it really wasn't. I'm also not a fan of the handheld camera work, and there's a lot of that going on in the film. It's motion sick hell, for me at least.

There's a freudian dilemma that's posed in the film that frames the relationship between George W senior and George W junior in a very awkward way. You can't help but wonder if that kind of father-son tension is real, or fabricated for the sake of the sympathy of the main character. And you can't help but have a shred of sympathy for the guy. And no one hates Bush more than I, but the movie makes him look like a lost baseball player just kind of in the highest elected office in the country by chance! By circumstance! By a wayward ambition that probably could have been channeled more productively if he wasn't born into such privilege and legacy.

Who knows. I didn't really like it though. I would say, definitely wait to see it when it comes out on video. I'll obviously be very interested to see what happens with Brolin at the awards, because he could very well go for gold again this year. He was great on SNL too. Loves him really. He's doing amazing things these days.

Highlights:

1) Josh Brolin

2) The trailer for "Milk," the new Emile Hirsch/Sean Penn movie!!  I cannot wait to see that.

Lowlights:

1) Lack of plot

2) Odd stance (if you could call it that) taken on the current life of the President

3) Not enough references to George Bush's simian similarities

Blue Jean Baby, LA Lady, It's Times Like These You Learn to Live Again and I'm Just Waiting 'Til The Shine Wears Off

I was pretty hesitant to use the port-a-potties at the LC fashion show. I waited and waited until I couldn't wait anymore, and then I walked backstage, through the models and the make up, and squatted while holding my nose. I hate port-a-potties...duh. Just as I was "washing" my hands, I heard a voice next door to me say, "Ew... we have to use these?" and then as I walked out, I saw her. It was LC. I caught her on "The Hills" last night, and tonight, I caught her in the stall next to me. This is a girl I've been watching on TV since I was a senior in high school. I've watched her date, move cities, change friends, and finally, I saw her in person, putting on her fashion show as I moved past her silently, all the while thinking to myself: this girl is too fucking pretty to be real.

I thought that was the coolest thing that would ever happen to me, seeing LC face-to-face, but then the show started, and all of a sudden, the gift bags we've been making for the last week and a half started to get picked up by the people who's names we wrote on index cards and researched on PerezHilton. For instance, Gavin Degraw. I know I put a bag on his chair and I heard someone mention that he was coming to the show, but then he stepped in front of me to get to his seat, and I was like I'm in loooooove with a girl (I'm in love with...). 

Just as the show was about to begin, we handed out necklaces to the people seated in the front row, and I handed one to Holly Madison. HOLLY MADISON--as in the woman who owns the vagina that once owned Hugh Hefner ("The Girls Next Door")! I watched her on E! on Sunday night, and tonight, I handed her a necklace and she actually looked at me. Someone in her row then turned to me and said, "Oh can you get one of those for my friend here?" and I just blindly said yes, and hurried to find an extra, only to return and find that the woman who asked for it was Guliana Rancic! Another E! Channel favorite! She fucking cavorts with George Clooney, not to mention has a standing career as E!'s anchor woman. I handed her the necklace and she says, "Thank you, sweetie, I love you!" MY JAW DROPPED. This is a woman who hosts on the red carpet for the Oscars (aka my dream come true). It's silly and kind of ridiculous, but holy fucking shit, it was cool.

This is totally up my alley. Despite the fact that I have no friends, no stable living situation and my car is filthy, I still had an amazing time tonight. I mean, 2 weeks ago I got to Hollywood, 2 months ago I got to California and for 21 years before that, I dreamt about this sort of thing. 

"I'm from fucking Michigan!" I told the girls I was working with, who were a little stunned that I was so stunned. "This does not happen in Michigan." And then they smiled at my naivete and promised that the shine of celebrities would wear off sooner than later. 

But no. I maintain that the moment I can't muster the proper amount of awe, is the moment the midwest has left my body. And I'm not too anxious to let go of that. I'm too much of a fish-out-of-water to abandon that identity. It's funny how as you get older and different situations arise, you begin to cling to wider and wider groups of identification. In high school, I clung to the people who were from the same section of Grosse Pointe; in college, I clung to anyone from Grosse Pointe, no matter what section (hell, most of my friends now are Park girls); after college, to hear someone say they're from Michigan, or the midwest in general, is musical in its familiarity. I'm even beginning to consider people from Ohio as acceptable candidates for friendship--and I hate Ohio.

I say this now as my feet are injured from the introduction of high heels, and there's a spider on the ceiling that is threatening me with its presence. It keeps making itself smaller and smaller as if to trick me into believing it's not there, but I know better! As I just told Kate, I'll play spider tricks with this spider. She seems to believe that by leaving the lights on, it will think that it's daytime and it will stay put. We'll see about that. Bottom line: there's just no good way this will end, for me or the spider. One of us will likely end up dead and the other traumatized. There's no telling who will take which side, though.

Highlights:

1) Lauren Conrad

2) Conrad Family (Mom, Dad, Brianna and lil bro)

3) Holly Madison

4) Guliana Rancic

5) Gavin Degraw

6) Lauren's "My Boys" boyfriend

7) The Simmons Sisters (as in Run DMC's daughters)

8) CUJO! (TV personality)

9) Topanga (From "Boy Meets World")

10) Jason Whaler + His Fiance

11) Lo Bosworth

12) Gary (the gay guy who went to Laguna with them)

13) Frankie! (from "The Hills")

Update:

Spider wins. I've had a heart attack in the pursuit of its death, and I now have no idea if it survived or if it is dead. I have changed rooms in this vacant apartment and alarmed the neighbors with my blood-curdling scream. Kate, you promised it wouldn't get me, and for the love of god, it did.

P the Fuck S, 

The title is the combination of the three songs I rocked out to on the car ride home today: "Tiny Dancer" (obvi), "Times Like These" (Foo Fighters), and "LOST!" (Coldplay). Loving, loving, loving the version of LOST with the percussion (sorry, pook). I hear at work all of the time and I blasted the hell out of it on the 405 tonight.

Body of Lies **/5

Basic plot: The CIA's in the Middle East and Leonardo DiCaprio is their ground agent who communicates his espionage to Russell Crowe back in Washington. That's really all there is to it.

As a general guideline, I prefer not to see movies about the Middle East. I don't really care to pay 10 dollars to watch on the big screen what I see on TV. Not to say that the war stuff isn't important, because obviously it is, but I usually don't like to see it play out during my cinematic escapes. This is probably why I didn't like "Iron Man" either.

Having said that, I will see anything that brandishes Leo, for the aforementioned reasons below. And as always, he did not disappoint. I love him with a Boston accent, a South African accent, and newly, a Southern accent. It's faint, but like everything else in life he pulls it off. I didn't like the film that much because most of that military jargon flies over my head, and I get tired of translated Arabic very quickly, but Leo was superb. Russell, who I tend to like in most other projects--especially Ridley Scott projects--was OK in this, but really didn't please me as much as he usually does.

It's a very typical CIA movie. It's present day, so in the midst of the Iraq War, and it's all very dusty. That's what living in the desert will do to you though... make you dusty. The plot is cohesive, there aren't any blank spots, but at the end of it you just hope and pray that some of the torture, some of the seemingly senseless deaths are a fabrication of Hollywood and not actual things that are transpiring in countries we'd never want to travel to. As Russell Crowe puts it in the film, "There's nothing here to like." That's definitely how I feel about that global region. It's an opinion derived ignorantly, I admit, because I've never been there, yet half my ancestry resides there, but still not my first, second or fifth choice for movie genre. 

So good job Leo. Yet again, you got me to see a movie I wasn't too sure about seeing in the first place, just because of your fabulousness. 

Been keeping up with Entourage? How insanely funny was last week's episode? Loves it. 

It's Fashion Week in LA and I'm working some of the shows so... crossing fingers for famous faces to be in my eye line.

Gone Baby Gone ****/5

"And if that girl's only hope is you, then I pray for her because she's gone, baby. Gone."

I happen to believe that the collision of Casey and Ben Affleck on screen is a force to be reckoned with. I first noticed this when I watched an episode of "The Second Voyage of the Mimi" in the 6th grade, and Ben made a call home to his parents and Casey answered, and his face just lit up. Oh The Voyage of the Mimi, such great days. But there are other examples too: "Chasing Amy," "200 Cigarettes," and of course..."Good Will Hunting." Remarkable films, each in their own right.

Basic plot outline: A little girl goes missing from her small Boston suburb and her aunt hires a private investigating team--Casey Affleck and his on-screen girlfriend, Michelle Monaghan--to augment the case and help find the child. This process, although straight forward, ends up being wrought with moral and personal dilemmas that show perfectly on the gorgeous face and through the emotional eyes of Casey Affleck. 

I love this movie. I think the script is brilliant, the acting is on its own level, and the plot outline has something for everyone. There's adequate amounts of sharp wit to pepper the story line that is otherwise very dramatic. I love that. I prefer to be engrossed in something to the point of not knowing whether or not its appropriate to laugh due to the subject matter. There are also moments when you want to cover your eyes, or you want to just cry or maybe even scream at the television. It's a beautifully unfolding drama.

I essentially show people this movie because when the credits are rolling, I like to have a debate about the ending choices of the main characters. Were they right? Did they do what was best? Are they morally culpable for their actions? Without giving anything away, I suggest you see the movie with someone and then ask these pivotal questions. 

It's really a remarkable movie. It didn't do anything at the Oscars, which is upsetting, but it's an homage to Boston, a trademark of the Affleck's in general. And I love Boston, of course, because I was born there... and their accents are amusing.

HIGHLIGHTS:

1) The ending

2) Casey Affleck

3) Ben Affleck in his directorial debut

4) The script--flawless.

5) The casting of local Bostonians to fill in the cinematic "neighborhood".

LOWLIGHTS:

1) Michelle Monaghan--I hate her. She's annoying. She has some sort of weird speech thing that drives me a little nuts. Also her character brings very little to the table besides a lot of emotions and very little resolution.

2) The release date was delayed because Madelyn McCann, the little blonde British girl, was abducted in Portugal near the time of the film's original release date.

See this movie. See it right now. Nextflix it. Move it to the top of your Queue. 

I say this now as I sit, watching "The Beach," a movie that has absolutely no merit other than the very obvious--Leonardo DiCaprio. At the height of my Leo obsession, back in middle school, I sat on my computer at home for hours watching trailers for this movie. Why hours? Because back in the old days of the internet, downloading a 3 minute Quicktime trailer was a huge process. Then when the flick came out, my dad was kind enough to take me and a friend to it on its opening night. A lot of hype for kind of a shit movie. I mean, great scenery. I love Thailand, and I'm sorry that most of where the movie was shot was wiped away in the Tsunami, but really, other than that and Leo, there's nothing to it. There is, however, just one shining moment, which is when Leo explains how the "haze of infatuation" can make you find even the most ridiculous habits of your lover, seem, well, lovely. That's just an excellent description.

"Desire is desire wherever you go. The sun will not bleach it, nor the tide wash it away."

Side Note: In the 8th grade, shortly after this movie was released, the Detroit Free Press had a contest to find the "Biggest Leonardo DiCaprio Fan," ie: me. The prize for the biggest fan was a replica of Leo's shirt that he wears in the movie. I wrote them about 18 emails, entering myself in the contest, explaining to them that no one on the face of the earth has ever felt as passionately about someone as I felt about Leo, and sure enough, 2 weeks later, I got the tshirt in the mail. I still have it. It's back at 239 Ridge, but I know exactly what shelf of my closet it is on. I'll never let go (get it??). I think it's ugly, it's oversized and since my hormones have stopped raging, I don't obsess over Leo anymore (as much), but it's a token of my youth that will have to go 6 feet under with me when the time comes. 

I still have yet to see his new movie, which is not good because I do like to be part of opening weekend box office numbers, but I've been hung over, drunk or crying over football all weekend, so it's a struggle. 

Closing Statements: If I drunk dialed you or drunk texted you Thursday or Friday night, thanks for chatting back. And if I made out with you this weekend--a small group of nameless men--thanks for the fun ;) If I danced with you, told you I was going to the bathroom, and then never returned, well you weren't for me. If I told you my name was "Carlie," well... you weren't for me.

haha, I just crack myself up.

My Favorite Man

It was John Lennon's 68th birthday yesterday. It was sadly overlooked by me. "You say it's your birthday? Well it's my birthday too, yeah!"--The Beatles. For John and Sean who share the same birthday.

Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist ***/5

This one begins way back in July when I saw Michael Cera in  Ann Arbor shooting his new movie. Oh yeah, I stalked that movie set and after about 20 minutes of waiting, I saw him run to the corner adjacent to where I was standing. This is irrelevant, I just wanted to let it be known.

So basic plot outline: Boy in a band (Michael Cera) gets his heart broken by a tiny blonde chick. He ends up going to play a concert with his gay band mates, and meets Nora (Kat Dennings) who uses him as a "Five Minute Boyfriend" in order to make one of her school enemies jealous. Turns out, that school enemy is the exact girl who dumped Cera scenes previous. It's all very intertwined. How does the playlist become "infinite"? Well, Nora's drunk ass friend--who is hilarious--gets lost at the concert and ends up wandering New York City all alone and wasted. Nora + Gay Boy Band + Nick have to find her, all the while trying to get to a secret show by a band called "Where's Fluffy?" There's some love, there's some humor, there's a lot of dark lipstick, there are a lot of classically drunk moments brought to us by Ari Graynor, who just steals the scenes she's in.

Here's my issue: yet again, there were inconsistent moments. For example, near the end of the movie, Nick and Nora are walking down the street talking to each other and then ALL OF A SUDDEN they're sitting down talking. THEN back to walking and talking. It's extremely odd. My cousin and I both looked at each other like, wtf? In addition to that inconsistency, I have to say that I tend to have the following issue with many teen dramas: If two characters are going to fall in love or at least realize that they've found their counterparts in one another, then I need to see some damn good chemistry to back that shit up. I tend to hate Kat Dennings with a passion, mostly because she annoys the shit out of me with her dark lipstick, but also because she never opens her mouth all of the way. She's a weird actress in that she's always playing the same role: intelligent, off-beat, emo chick who is also kinky sexual, but only on an unsuspecting level. Not to say that Michael Cera can hit all kinds of ranges, because we all know he can't. He's been the same character ever since "Arrested Development" and that has just parlayed him into this role as well. He's the nerd-next-door, with intelligent wit, skinny legs and the ability to charm your pants off (oh yes, pants are always coming off for him). He's given this character a profitable niche in Hollywood. Even when I saw him running to the corner in Ann Arbor on his new film set, I could just tell, he's that same character. And that's great for now, ya know, whatever pays the bills, but when he's 50, if I see him being that nerdy love interest STILL, I'll barf in the aisles. I have to say though, good for him for finding an acting career, because without it, he might never have gotten any. He'd be stuck behind a desk at an IT office like the rest of nerdy America. 

The drunk girl, Ari Graynor, is just phenomenal as a drunk. And we've all been there. Drunk off your ass, wandering around, looking for your friends, telling people too much information about yourself. She must have been hitting the sauce before her scenes because she just pulls it off brilliantly. And everybody loves the drunk girl. I'd say see the movie just for her.

See it, good music. Band of Horses, even. Although, I've taken them off of the "indie" list ever since they appeared on MTV's "I'm with Rolling Stone." MTV is considered selling out, right? I did love them on that show though--or rather, I loved the kid that interviewed them. Either way, they're featured in the flick.

Highlights:

1)  The music

2) Ari Graynor

3) Rafi Gavron and Aaron Yoo--Love them as the gay band mates

4) Nick's car. Walking to the parking lot after the movie, we totally saw the same car parked next to us. It was an amazing movie moment.

5) One very sincere, very moving, very awesome Beatles reference

Speaking of which. I have this theory that most movies you watch have a Beatles reference embedded somewhere within them. It's either a covered song, a mention of their name, a look alike, a time period reference, or just a flat out homage. I love it. I watch for these things and I take extra special note of them. Love my boys.

Lowlights:

1) Kat Dennings (puke)

2) Inconsistencies (millions and millions of dollars go into making movies, I think they can make sure they're edited properly for god's sake)

3) The two hottest boys being gay

4) The fact that we never hear "Where's Fluffy?"'s music because they're obviously fictional.

I have to get in the car and drive 2 hours back to San Diego now...

Where the Dark is Dark at 7pm

Where to begin?

I began Day 2 of my internship dressed like a flaming moron, again. "Did you wear your sweatpants?" Anne asked me. Of course, I did.  Not like MICHIGAN sweatpants with a gratuitous slogan on the leg. Just like, the pair of pants I've sewn 8 times due to tearing. Oh get over it... I did. I'm going shopping tomorrow morning, so hopefully things in the fashion department will improve for me.

I spent a ridiculous amount of time at the post office today mailing "over-sized" envelopes. I spent an hour stuffing them, 30 minutes putting postage on them, and all of my arm strength to carry them 2 blocks to the post office, only to find out that I was 33 cents short per envelope. Hence a trip BACK to the office, BACK to the post office, and then right over to Staples to make things nice and complete. I actually enjoyed all of this. It's way better than sitting on my brother's recliner watching movies, hunting for jobs on Craigslist and inevitably coming up empty handed at the end of the day. The only thing I didn't enjoy was the 90 degree heat. Yes people, you heard me, IT'S 90 HERE. I was sweating balls on Sunset Boulevard, which I'm pretty sure you are NOT supposed to do.

A slightly cool thing is that they shot an episode of Degrassi outside of my building this weekend and they're shooting something else tomorrow. I swear to god, if I can just see one semi-famous person remotely close, I think my life would be complete. Well... not totally complete seeing as I still have no friends. I thought I was working on getting friends in San Diego, and then I decided to switch things to LA. I have to say though, in the absence of friends, I have had the most fun with these blood relatives. My cousin cooks for me constantly, like a mother. My brother is always fun, but now he's far away and probably barely misses me. J/K, he's probably just bitching at the wind over something that needs to be cleaned. He's terribly adorable though--and better be reading this right now.

I STILL have not gotten a chance to go to the movies recently because I'm tired and driving insane amounts, so top of my list is "Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist" (I confess, mostly because I want to hear what music they chose) and right after that is LEO'S NEW MOVIE!!!! which opens this weekend. I'm going to drag my big guy to that one. Maybe Devon too. Maybe it'll be a Tevo+Meg movie night. We haven't doubled on that kind of social scene yet.

Is it Thanksgiving yet? Actually, lets put that one off. I don't want to be 22 anytime soon.

Jay Leno and LA

Tonight, the best hostess in the world/my cousin, Shannon, took me to downtown Hermosa Beach and we saw Jay Leno perform at the Comedy & Magic Club. Apparently he does stand up there every Sunday night because it's where he got his start. Tonight, however, he was proceeded by someone I consider to be a true icon of American Cinema--but in that "bit part" kind of way--Larry Miller. I bet you're wondering who that is. Well if you've seen "Pretty Woman," Larry Miller is the man who is the store manager at the place where Julia Roberts spends all of Richard Gere's money with that fabulous shopping montage all set to Roy Orbisons, "Pretty Woman." OH he's also the dad in "10 Things I Hate About You". YES FOLKS, that means he has met and shared screen time with the late Heath Ledger (xo). Amazing. Absolutely amazing. He was practicing his own stand-up routine tonight at the club, and I have to say, it wasn't all that funny, but it was great to see him out. 

JAY LENO, however, was awesome. His hair was all over the place, his tie was loosened, and he opened his act with obscene hand gestures! Not something usually featured on The Tonight Show. He was on stage for about an hour and then closed his set by trying out jokes for his monologue on The Tonight Show. This isn't unusual for him. He tries out jokes every Sunday and tape records the routine so that he can have Memorex'd proof of just how funny he is.

This was my first celebrity sighting out here in LA. LA life is already shaping up to be more exciting than my alter ego's life in San Diego. San Diego girl just hangs around her brother, wishing she had her own friends, a job and a consistent supply of Netflix DVDs. 

Being so close to Jay Leno, in a den of comedic infamy, is something that could never happen in Michigan, or in San Diego for that matter. In Michigan, just the fact that Jay Leno's car would be parked on a well-traveled street, in front of a tiny comedy club, would be a big fucking deal. Here, it's just a regular Sunday night. How fantastic is this?! This is functioning as reason number 34 as to why I should move up here. Reasons number 1-33 are, of course, a secret.

Epic Side Note:

It appears as though I've gotten myself into that funny position of constantly being a third wheel. I kid you not, this is my only purpose in life. Everywhere I go, I try not to be that weird hanger-on with couples, but I can't help myself. It involuntarily is happening to me all of the time. I've gotten used to being the third wheel with Tony and Devon or "Tevo" as we're now calling them. It was weird at first when we'd go get ice cream as a unit--a weird, 2-girls-1-guy unit, complete with a set of siblings--but now I'm used to it. Then I went home last weekend and happened again, to find myself on a brother's date with his girlfriend, only this time it was Charlie and Lauren. **Please keep in mind, Charlie is my YOUNGER brother**. I'll consider that third-wheel moment my true low point because not only was I a college grad on a college campus I only left 2 months ago, but I was the awkward older person third wheeling with practical infants. Not that I don't love them, because I do. BUT THEN, I ventured all of the way to LA (as many times aforementioned) to find myself in yet another couples situation. Although this time, I was the fifth wheel. Dating with two couples. All alone. Stranded in LA in couplesville. Here's a funny notion I've come to accept: Everyone's in love. It's clearly been slapping me in the face for the last 2 months, and OK world, I get the picture. It's probably time to start one of those weird tricky things called A LIFE, and probably, there should be a relationship in it... somewhere. Not in the near future, of course, because I just graduated (I wonder how long I'll be able to say I just did this) and in college, we get drunk and make out with strangers. We don't date! 

So move over cat lady. I'm signing up for a kitten.

Duets */5

Gwyneth Paltrow, Huey Lewis, Scott Speedman, Maria Bello, Paul Giamatti

I've been trying to get my hands on this movie because I am an avid supporter of Scott Speedman, oops I mean "Ben Covington." Such love for this man. Anyway, as luck would have it, it was on HBO this morning--which is really quite convenient since I can't seem to manage to walk the two blocks to the mailbox and drop off my Netflix. I'M GETTING THERE PEOPLE, easy!

Not really a great movie though. It was very reminiscent of "The Jane Austen Book Club" in that there were missing pieces everywhere. It was basically one long concert given by actors who decided that acting was merely secondary. It should be billed as a musical because really, that's the only interesting part about it. Gwyneth has a great voice, Huey Lewis can only sing in life (duh), and Maria Bello needs to put the microphone down. I have to say though, for the ten seconds I got of Scott Speedman, I was quite pleased. This man can act. He is amazing and fabulous. He is great looking, and easily warms all of the scenes he's in. It's a good thing too because most of them are with Maria Bello. Speaking of which, she was ALSO in "The Jane Austen Book Club," so maybe incoherent plot lines just follow her. But the point is, why don't people give Mr. Speedman more of a chance? Who is representing this man? Why can't they get him into non-indie, non-sucking, non-Felicity movies? If Ari Gold was doing the agent'ing, I'm sure things would go differently for him. BUT the good news is that I believe he lives in Hollywood, so my dearest hope is that he walks by me on Sunset Boulevard. We'll see...

Don't see this movie unless you have it huge for Speedman like I do.

Side Note:

One of my favorite friends, Ashley Spencer, has been cross referenced on the Sports Illustrated Online website. Why, do you ask? Because she's hilarious and wrote an article for "Boosh" online magazine about her quest to find Michael Phelps when she journeyed to Ann Arbor for the UMich-Wisco game. This is the link via Sports Illustrated:

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/sioncampus/10/03/the-whiniest-ncaa-coaches-campus-clicks/index.html

Scroll to "Finding Football, Phelps." Oh, and she mentions me in the article! But not nearly enough...

Let Me Show You My Emoticon!!

(Insert Smiley Face Here)

Dear Kate, does Addie make you clean? Like, does she walk into the house, pull out the vacuum, turn it on--even though you're clearly watching TV--and then point the hose at you suggestively, like, "Heyyyyyy... you should be cleaning too!"?? Does she do those things? I bet she doesn't. I bet she respects your right to television and laziness. Oh living with siblings can be so fun... j/k Presh, I love you to pieces.

STARTER FOR 10 ****/5

I quite enjoy this movie. I've seen it before--about 5 minutes of it in Kate's room, and about the rest of it in my room. Then I watched it again today, because, well, I've seen everything else on HBO. 

James McAvoy leads us through a British kid's interpretations of what it's like to move away from home and go to college, or "University." He leaves behind his under-achieving friends, his single mother and his small town to take up prestige at a university full of poets and protesters. He gets it in his head that he wants to be on the British equivalent of the Quiz Bowl team, and ends up taking his team far into the finals, all while courting his blonde teammate, who really looks very oddly matched for the team. It's a coming-of-age story line. McAvoy is just endearing; his sidekick friend, Rebecca Hall, is one of my new British faves (even though I personally believed she ruined the film "Vicky, Christina, Barcelona" by failing to impersonate an American accent and therefore stuttering through all of the movie); and that weirdo guy who is also in "Atonement" is somewhat charming as well. I love British movies. I can't help myself. I recommend this one. It's pretty cute, and the majority of its soundtrack is furnished by The Cure. Who wouldn't truly love to have a romantic encounter with someone in real life and hear "Pictures of You" in the background? Oh yeah, consider that mood set. Good flick, predictable ending, I won't be giving it away.

Ahhhh I start my internship on Monday and I'm not quite prepared. I do not have basically any clothes that will suit that LA look (umm pun VERY much intended). This, of course, makes me nervous. We'll see--maybe they won't care if I wear a towel, which is always my "I don't know what to wear" standby.

A Kick to the Head is Worth Two to the Heart

First things first:

1) A man at the gym today had a monkey. "What do you mean he had a monkey?" HE HAD A MONKEY. It was on his shoulder, it was wearing a diaper, and no, the man wasn't doing any kind of physical activity, he was just there with the monkey, showing it off, probably trying to pick up chicks.

2) Franco, the man who is always at the gym when we are was not there today. Truly, no matter what time we choose to go, and we choose a different time every day, he is there. Tony says he was there yesterday, but having him absent today definitely affected my workout. I miss that mullet, that cut-off shirt and those toned 50-year-old arms.

3) Jess (perhaps my only California girl friend) skipped out on work today to come meet me at the beach. It was awesome. The beach was dead--apparently people have jobs?--but we caught up with each other on our respective weekends, so it was a perfect environment for that.

NOW enough about me.

I've been watching a few episodes of "Iconoclast" lately. Thankfully, my favorites have been on TV. "What's 'Iconoclast'?" Well, it's only the best show ever. It's on the Sundance channel and it's when two "icons" (if you will) hang out with each other and basically talk about why they are friends. My fave epis are: Laird Hamilton + Eddie Vedder--most of it takes place in Hawaii, and the scenery is beyond impressive; Sean Penn + Jon Krakauer--all of it is in  Alaska, and again, the scenery is beautiful, plus they talk about "Into the Wild" and if you know me, you know I fucking love that book/movie; but my NEW fave is Robert Redford + Paul Newman. It was on today, obviously because Mr. Newman passed away this weekend (tears, Kate). But I happen to believe that the concept of two legends of a trade, no matter which trade it is (writing, surfing, film making, health healing, music, or even social activism), hanging out with each other and complimenting each other is possibly the best idea ever.

HIGHLIGHTS:::

1) Laird Hamilton + Eddie Vedder. There is a moment when Eddie is in Laird's house, looking out at the ocean and painting a picture based on a photo taken of Laird riding a wave. It's an incredible interpretation of the photo and Eddie is so cute talking about how impressed he is with Laird's ability to make a wave look grandiose simply by interacting with it. Oh, and it's a present for Laird which is fantastic. Imagine telling people, "Oh yeah, Eddie Vedder painted that OF me, FOR me."

2) Sean  Penn + Jon Krakauer. Sean and Jon go into a liquor store in some random town in Alaska and buy Absolut and Kaluah for the White Russians they're going to be making in Chris McCandless's honor. Well, the woman recognizes Sean, asks him what he's doing in Alaska and then asks him for his ID, which he happens not to have on him. He says, "Seriously?" and she assures him that YES he does have to show ID like everyone else, famous or not. Perfect. Loves it.

3) Robert Redford + Paul Newman. They drop Robert Redford off at Paul Newman's house, and both men have camera's on them, but for some reason, they wander the estate for about 5 minutes looking for each other, unable to meet up. Robert says, "Where the hell is he?" Paul shouts, "JUST STAY WHERE YOU ARE! I'll come find you!" Hilarious. Two old men, smokin' legends, completely unable to locate each other on an enormous Connecticut estate.

YOU CAN'T WRITE THIS SHIT PEOPLE!

Also, Robert Redford is the founder and owner of Sundance (channel, festival, ranch in Utah) and he does so many positive things for other people, for filmmakers and for the environment that I can't even be more impressed by a human being (except for Bono, of course).

Sidely Noted:

I wrote PerezHilton an email describing my encounter with Michael Phelps this weekend. Pretty useless shit, but I felt he needed to know that M. Phelps isn't that pleasant to his fans/fellow UofM students and alumni. Oh well, he had a super hot friend in his Entourage who actually DID talk to us, so not all was lost by any means.

Closing Statements:

I got kicked by a small child this week. He was throwing a tantrum, I attempted to calm him, he attempted to kill me, but I did make sure to assure him that I have four brothers and there  is literally no physical harm that they have not already imposed on me in life. I can take it. That's the way to deal with the agedly-challenged, right? (oh I soooo made that phrase up).

Kate, please remember for the future that I am 1 hour BEHIND you. 8:40 am, while a fabulous time for normal people to wake up, is not generally lovely for me. But I did enjoy the chat. I love waking up to my friends on the phone. It's the perk of different time zones.

Cruelty Against Recent Grads

It's been about a month and half for me out here in California. I'm in the current position of not being able to pay for a movie ticket, so in a stroke of genius, Kate has suggested I blog about my life. Since I'm fairly certain she's the only one who cares to read this crap because she's as unemployed as I am, I'm going to use her as my target audience...

Dear Kate,

I'm currently sitting at my residence, on the lazyboy, watching "The Devil Wears Prada." It is among the long list of movies featured on HBO/Starz/Encore that I've watched either lately, not long ago, yesterday or last night when I was trying to fall asleep. It has become increasingly difficult to watch a new movie. There basically is no such thing anymore. But I'm trying to watch "The Devil Wears Prada" with a new set of eyes and understanding because I'm about to embark on a fashion internship of my own, although, unlike the main character, Emily, I will not be receiving any kind of compensation.

That small detail brings me to the point of this entire "blog blog blog blog blog." Would you like to know how the world rewards newly graduated-from-college people like myself (and yourself, too)? It basically hands you a big fat bill rendered for the space you've been occupying and says, "Don't pay me later. Don't pay me when you find a job. Don't pay me in small increments. Pay me right now and if you can't, beg and plead with your parents to help you out like they've been helping you for the last 21/22 years of your life." It's kind of unfair. But money talks are so crass, so I'll just tell you that in this "real world" there is no time to get on your feet, you have to come out of the womb of college walking, talking and managing your life in ways that seemed previously unimaginable. Why didn't someone tell you this before? Oh, they probably did but you were too drunk to listen. At least there was something good that came out of college... and no, I'm not talking about your degree.

Most recent cruelties sent to me from the anti-Meghan  guiding forces above:

1) Yesterday, while on the pier in Hermosa Beach, CA I was watching a few very, very attractive guys surfing. (This was not the cruel part). Somewhere in that time of glorified gazing, one of them poked his head up, and noticed we were staring at him. So he walked towards us on his way out of the surf and so casually asked, "Hey, do you guys know what time it is." I immediately looked down at my wrist, hoping to find the watch that is always there, but instead found a bare arm with a lonely piece of permanent writing on it--unhelpful. I then scrambled in my diaper bag of a purse to find my phone, which, as luck would have it, was in its "I'm a piece of shit" mode, therefore the display was off and would not come back on for 10 minutes--unhelpful. As I was about to shout out the most pathetic and disappointed "No" of my life, my cousin came through with her phone and was able to provide said beautiful surfer guy with the time. Naturally, the one time one of these wet suits wants to talk to me, I can't even provide something as simple as the time. Thank you, Blackberry, thank you, Swatch, thank you, world for stealing my only piece of free thunder.

2) I'm in the process of searching for a new name. At one point during my fashion PR interview, the woman asked me, "What's your name again?" sending me the message that not only was I dressed like a moron--a realization I had at the moment the elevator doors opened--but also my name bore no remarkable tendencies that would make it memorable. Therefore, here and now, I declare that the search is on. Possible new titles for my person: Carrie (like: "Boy, you're going to carry that weight, carry that weight a long time,"-The Beatles); Elton (like: "I want love, but it's impossible"-Elton John); Kuhhh (like the noise my brother makes when he's disgusted with something. It's very throaty); Sadie (like: "Sexy Sadie, where did you go?"-The Beatles, again); Carly (like the name I gave to the guy at the bar I really wasn't interested in talking to). Maybe I'll just make it one of those funny combo names "Sadie Elton Carrie O'Neill". Either way, it's got to go.

3) Kate, now having just spoken to you mid-blog I can add this third bullet point. Why don't you think that I can make a happy life with George Clooney? I understood your logic when you told me that life with Justin Timberlake probably wouldn't pan out, due to Jessica Biel. I grasp that life with Leonardo DiCaprio will also be difficult, because he just can't get enough hot super models to attend to his needs. I won't go into detail about the bitterness derived from your notion that Emile Hirsch and I aren't fated to be together because right now I am currently focussed on George. And if I want a George-Clooney-Style rescue from this life, I'm going to need your support. If The Secret taught me anything, it's that if you wish for something it'll happen... 

...having said that, I am still waiting for those other aforementioned people to come to their senses.

Now for the good stuff...

1) I forgot to pay my parking meter yesterday and I didn't get a ticket! Thank you, Hollywood. Actually I did remember, but by the time I did, I was already running down Sunset Blvd in heels that didn't really fit my foot, in an outfit that didn't really fit the company, in a time-crunch panic that has really started to fit my life. BUT, no ticket, so yay.

2) I passed "Robertson Blvd" on the freeway yesterday. Those countless hours spent reading Perez's blog lead me to know that that's where celebrities go when they want to be photographed. Ooo... that means I was super close to the scene of many many Hollywood crimes--including the one in which Avril faux'd a pregnancy for that TV show in which they punk the paparazzi. 

3) I happened to catch Simon Baker on Ellen. Reminds me of the other movie I watch all of the damn time: "Something New".

4) I gave the performance of a lifetime last night around 8pm. It was in my car, on the I-5, heading south towards San Diego. It was just a good ol' version of Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City" but for one night only, I sang AND played the drums. I got a sitting ovation, from myself, of course.

Ok Kate, my computer is fresh out of batteries. I have other things on my agenda now. For example, I plan to go outside and lay on the hot tub cover (don't tell Tony) and work on my tan so that those kids back home can say something like "Wow, California agrees with you!" when really, it doesn't.

Oh and Kate, congrats on the job.

Burn After Reading ***/5

I've spent all week watching "No Country For Old Men"--it has been on HBO all weekend--so I have to say, I had abnormally high expectations for this movie. I watched Ben Lyons and his co-host wax on about how much they enjoyed the film, how much they barreled with laughter, how much they wished it was longer. At the time, their comments on the brilliance of the Cohen brothers was something I could agree with. I tend to trust Ben Lyons, partly because film criticism runs in his blood, partly because he's the most attractive film critic on TV.

I went to see this film midday, in a theater that smelled like my first grade teacher's perfume mixed with baby wipes (but I swear that didn't influence my opinion in the least). The theater wasn't packed by any means, but a sign of the economic times is that more and more people seem to have free time at 3:40 on a Tuesday afternoon. 

The film opens with John Malkovich's character, Osbourne Cox, being called into the office of his boss at the CIA, only to be fired in front of a few coworkers. He's targeted for being an alcoholic, and then rushes into a rage that can only be understood as reasonable. Who wants to be judged for alcohol abuse? At work no less! It is here that we see the first use of a popular phrase from the film, "What the fuck?!". (I happened to utter this myself throughout the rest of the film because one random thing befalls these characters after another). Cox, upon returning home and having to relay this severance to his wife, consoles her with the news that he plans to write a personal memoir. (Side Note: this charming character action reminds me of my own personal predicament with unemployment). But the memoir of a former agent of the CIA becomes of special interest to Pitt and McDormand's characters, as they happen to come across a digital copy of the memoir on the floor of the lady's locker room at the gym in which they are both personal trainers. The dialogue that transpires between these two, in terms of how to blackmail Osbourne Cox, are the only humorous moments in the film, I'm sad to say.

One thing inevitably linking to the other means that this memoir brings about connections between the characters in the most unusual ways. As it turns out, everyone's sleeping with each other, no one's marriage is successful, and online dating is really just a scam for married men to get laid without attachments. 

I thought I was going to this movie to laugh my ass off, but instead, I just muttered the signature line of the main characters: What the Fuck?! Confusion was a large part of what made me dislike this film. I couldn't really accept the fact that scheming over how to blackmail a former CIA agent via his personal memoir could bring about such bad luck for these characters. Although, while reflecting on that premise, it is pretty humorous how random it is to have the memoir of a fired CIA agent.

Highlights: 

1) Brad Pitt playing a character who is a complete idiot. It really strikes a contrast with all of that perfect-human charity work we're always hearing about from him and his "better half".

2) Frances McDormand is charming as a plastic-surgery-obsessed personal trainer. Ben Lyons put that thought in my head when he first reported it, and I completely agree.

3) George Clooney building a sex machine. Pretty much anything having to do with George Clooney and sexual activity is a plus in my book.

4) The car scene with Malkovich and Pitt--when you see it, you'll know what I mean.

5) The use of the phrase "What the fuck?!"--I don't mind if that makes me sound childish. It was so appropriately executed in the film.

Lowlights:

1) Tilda Swinton--I hate her. Ever since she so gratuitously got to sleep with Leonardo DiCaprio in "The Beach," I can't stomach her. She's irritating and ruins every scene she's in. NO ONE buys her and Clooney as an adulterous couple, because she'd never be that lucky to score someone so infallibly stunning. Sorry, it's the truth.

2) John Malkovich--Not my favorite. I suppose in order to have such visual over achievers in a film, like Brad Pitt and George Clooney, you have to offset them with people like John Malkovich. I appreciate him as a drunk memoir-writer, but similar to Swinton, his presence irritates me.

3) I didn't think it was that funny. Maybe something has escaped me. Maybe it's something I could pick up on if I watched it a second time, but as of this viewing, I was not impressed.

To The Beginning

The Office

Since there's not much else to do at night besides watch tv--and occasionally drink--we watch The Office.